


Eclipsed

by EldrichRose



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Blood and Gore, Dark Magic, Drinking, Drug Use, Drugged Sex, F/F, F/M, Fantsay AU, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Multi, Slow Build, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:21:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22783192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EldrichRose/pseuds/EldrichRose
Summary: Born under twin moons, their paths have always been intertwined.His sister, gifted by the moon, was destined to lead their kingdom out from the shadows of Solari. And he believed that all he was ever going to be was by her side: Alune's ever faithful sword and shield.Then, a new feeling blossomed in his chest and his faith wavered. Was that all he really was meant for ?
Relationships: Aphelios/Sett (League of Legends), Rakan/Xayah (League of Legends), Sett / other
Comments: 6
Kudos: 75





	1. First Quarter

"I don't understand the appeal in this," Alune said with a huff, ducking out of the way of another busy commoner. Silver hair pulled into a braid, wearing a simple blue dress that brushed past her knees, Alune appeared severely out of place in the slums of this Ionian city.

The older of the two glanced over his shoulder, giving her a look she'd seen a thousand times by now. The 'you'll never understand' look and it was beginning to grate on her nerves. Her brother has given her this look no less than five times today alone. He just shrugged unsure of what to say as he darted down an alley and turning left and coming out into a large street. It was crowded with people from the lower class with some upper class citizens mingled among them by the brightly colored outfits.  Before the twins stood a grand coliseum, white marble carved into majestic beasts and warriors mid combat. Towering pillars and curling archways that lead further in were filled with people clamoring to get in. Four heavily muscled men were at the betting booth, encouraging people to place wagers on the current champion and today’s special spectacle. A few of the pit fighter’s could be seen flexing and showing off to the awaiting masses and their fans.

Everything was brightly colored, from the blankets hanging out to dry to the dresses of the higher class women. The twins stood out tremendously from the colorful crowd that surrounded them: Alune with her white moon sigils and well kept appearance, and Aphelios with his own crescent markings, his tunic and pants similar in color to the dress his sister wore. A few people nearby eyed them with disdain, and some more unsavory folks were after the coin purse at Aphelios’s hip. Alune was more aware of their surroundings than the other, keeping her hands folded in her long sleeves and grasping at the cool moon stone and dagger she had hidden. 

"Aphi, if Auntie knows we skipped lessons to watch fighting, you know she'll never let you leave the manor," the oldest twin pleaded, exasperated with his behavior.

Aphelios rolled his eyes, giving her quick hands signs. Pointing at him and then her.

'No one asked you to come.'

She stumbled in her steps trying to think of a reason why she followed. Looking around nervously, hoping no one overheard her. "You know I wasn't about to let you go alone in this new city!" She grabbed his arm as he began to make his way into the lines. "I know you can defend yourself but…after last time"

He could feel her worry, thick and cold like winter's embrace. It was a familiar feeling in his chest; his sister was always the worrier. Once a source of comfort knowing someone cared for his well being. Lately though, it was getting on his nerves, he just wanted to do something for himself for once. Aphelios sighed and shrugged off her grip, looking around the crowd to see if he could spot why he was there in the first place. He’d overhead one of the guards talking about a famous chakram user before, someone he'd looked into as his next weapon to master. He’s attempted before to little if any success. If he saw it in person, he might have a better understanding of what he'd been doing wrong. It was frustrating not being able to fully grasp something. He felt like he was letting his sister down, letting his people down.

A touch on Aphelios’s shoulder broke his train of thoughts. Looking over, he saw Alune's warm smile; he could feel her warmth in his chest, letting him know it was okay. As his twin, they had always had a special connection. Words were rarely needed when you could feel so much more. He placed his hand on her’s, mimicking her own smile even if it looked off.

She pointed ahead as it was their turn to enter. He hadn’t realized they made it this far already. The gruff man at the entrance, tanned with rounded bear ears and several scars, held out his hand. He spoke Vastayan, which Aphelios understood, but his sister was having trouble picking it up. He dug into his coin pouch, but Alune placed a few coins in the man’s hands before he had the chance to. It was clearly much more than the man had asked for but he let it go. They could afford it, his sister’s allowance much larger than his own. He nods his head in thanks to Alune and they made their way in.

The sun was blistering hot and their dark clothing didn't help with keeping cool. Most of the fights were nothing amazing; it was interesting to see how other people fought. As his sister pointed out, it was all barbaric. No tact, no thought: just primal fighting where one came out on top and the other might not have at all. 

Alune had grown bored only two fights in. Opting to pull out a small book to read while the crowd cheered around her. Hours must have passed before she tugged on his sleeve. Aphelios tore his gaze away from the fighting pits as a viper-like woman lunged at a man three times her size. He tilted his head in question.

"We have to go. Auntie needs me for diplomatic lessons and--" He tuned her out; court politics and lessons had never interested him. Not that he was ever meant to lead - that was her role, why she was born. The full moon had marked her so.

He made small hand movements, short and to the point like normal. 

'You can go, I'll be fine. It's almost over.'

Alune huffed in exasperation and stood, tucking her book away. "Fine. Don't blame me if something bad happens." She bent to kiss his cheek. At her kiss, he could feel an empty cold - almost as if it were to snow. It was a familiar feeling of his sister's magic and how she kept track of him. And then she then made her way down the steps, leaving him alone.

Aphelios shifted, straining to hold still; it was unusual to be without Alune’s presence nearby, but he couldn't let the others in the crowd know. It would show weakness and he knew all too well that could lead to death. A lesson he learned quickly. He was used to this, he could do this. It was rare he ever asked for anything and this was important.

Finally, a tall lanky figure strode out into the pit with an air of confidence. Whether because he knew he could win or foolish ignorance; Apehlios wasn’t sure. Dressed in loose red clothing and with their light hair pulled into a low ponytail, they had two chakrams in each hand and a wide smile on their androgynous face . They were facing the current champion: the viper woman. She was dripping blood and venom, face twisted in a feral snarl. Aphelios leaned forward, eager to see how they handled the current champion. 

The viper watched her opponent, wary that they never moved; she glanced at the crowd and wiped her brow. Crouching low, she readied to strike, small daggers between each finger. With a hiss, she leapt at the newcomer, going straight for their throat. Dust and blood splattered on the ground when she landed behind them. Rolling his eyes and disappointed at the quick show, Aphelios stood to leave, but a grip on his arm stopped him. He hadn’t noticed her presence, nor did he see her move. He eyed the woman; she had deep caramel colored skin with white curling tattoos over her left eye. Her dress was short and black, knives strapped to each thigh and a dangerous grin on her painted lips. The stranger tugged Aphelios back toward his seat. And then she leaned over to speak.

“You should see the rest, no?” Her voice had a slight accent to her words, an indication that she wasn’t from Ionia. 

Slowly, the Lunari fighter made his way back to his seat, glancing at the woman again before turning his dark eyes to the pit. His brows rose in surprise; the viper woman was gasping as she held her bleeding side. Her opponent was spinning one chakram in their left hand, and the other they tossed at their downed rival. Their loose cloak was ripped to shreds, but they had no marks on them. Their features made it hard to pinpoint a gender; slender, but bulky enough to throw hard. In a fight, though, gender didn’t matter.

Leaning forward, Aphelios watched as Viper ripped the chakram out of her side, screaming as she charged blindly. She ducked to the right, barely dodging as a chakram sliced her arm. The other fighter dashed forward into a roll, sliding underneath Viper. They grabbed both chakrams and came to a stop, crouched. Viper landed on all fours, turning quickly. She threw two of her poison coated daggers. Aphelios was entranced watching the way they held their weapons, their form as they hurled them and how they returned.

“This is my favorite part,” the lady beside him chuckled.

Both fighters were breathing heavily. Viper had sustained heavy blood loss, which was noticeable by how little she moved and how she had instead turned to ranged attacks. Chakram on the other hand had a grin on their face, but their actions were jerky; the poison was setting in. In a flurry of throws that picked up speed the closer they got to Viper, it was a bloodbath as she was ripped to shreds. At the end of it all, Chakram stood victorious, taking a bow as they ripped the chakrams from their enemy. 

“Seeing the blood go flying, the way Mei-Lou rips people apart...” She sighed and shivered.

Aphelios went to sign but stopped; no one but his people knew the signs. It had occurred to the mute he had never interacted outside of his small circle and he wasn’t sure how to proceed. The woman beside him glanced over to see him giving her a deadpan stare.

“Not much of a talker, are you?” she said with an airy laugh.

He pointed to his throat, where the black line from his bottom lip continued down and encircled his neck, and then covered his mouth. 

Her brows shot up in understanding. “Oho, a mute boy all alone.” A smile spread across her lips as she got uncomfortably close to him. “Your date left you so early. Does that mean you’re free?” She pressed herself into his side and he shuddered. 

His skin crawled from a touch that wasn’t Alune, his senses screaming danger. Her perfume was thick and heavy making him dizzy. She, however, took it as a good sign, wrapping her arms around him and jerked him up. “That means you’re all mine for the night~” she purred into his ear. 

Aphelios looked up to the sun and internally cursed that it was later than he meant to be out. His aunt and sister were going to kill him. He could already feel Alune’s anger stirring in his chest.

Trying to break free of her surprisingly strong grasp, a sharp pain shot up his arm. Her words became muffled as a headache blossomed in his head, two forces were fighting for dominance in his skull. A cool head pressed to his forehead and everything became dull and distant. He thought he heard Alune shouting before everything faded away. 

  
  


»»————- ————-««

  
  


Aphelios felt sluggish and heavy as consciousness came back to him. Everything sounded slow and muffled. He tried moving but it felt like swimming through molasses. He blinked trying to regain focus and it took some time for things to stop spinning. Aphelios found himself in what looked like a luxurious room from the amount of gold and silk. A large round stone table was in the middle of the room, a smaller pit of fire that was cooking meat and other things he couldn't place in its center. Everything else was covered in pillows and blankets, much like the plush pillow he found himself on… in between two other bodies.

The thick scent of cinnamon and herbs filled his nose causing him to sneeze. The chest he was laying against shook with laughter while a small hand was carding through his dark locks. A cup was pressed to his lips, and against his better judgement, he drank. Cold, sweet liquid slid down his throat; a sharp and spicy aftertaste hit him. Aphelios blinked rapidly to clear his vision. A part of him knew he should be more alert, that he shouldn’t be there. He had a duty and training to do, and Auntie was going to be furious - along with his sister. But everything was heavy, as if pulling all of that to the bottom of a lake, leaving him empty and hollow. The only thing he cared about was the pang of hunger and the pleasant warmth of whatever he was given to drink. 

“Geez, how much did you give him?” an unfamiliar voice questioned, sipping on his own drink, his other hand wrapped around the boy in his lap. 

The other form Aphelios was laid against - that of the woman from the fighting pits earlier - ripped a piece of bread off of a loaf, dipping it into a darker honey colored sauce. She licked her fingers clean. The woman shrugged and then leaned against Aphelios, playing with his hair. “I had to give him a little more than normal. At first, I thought I had killed him ‘cause he dropped like a sack of potatoes. He was clutching his head and looked like he was screaming but it was like not human sounding.” She took a bite of her bread, talking while chewing, “So anyway I knocked him out ‘cause it was attracting attention and, well, you know the rest.” 

He felt heavy, but the words slowly caught up to him. They were talking about him, right?

He...he wasn’t too sure. He tapped the arm holding him, struggling to sit up. Everything felt too much, too close, and he could feel the panic set in. The cup was back and he drank it all, choking from downing it too fast. Looking around the room, he saw familiar faces: some from the pit fighting, some higher ups from other kingdoms, but no one he knew personally.

Aphelios looked up. He saw blond, spiked hair that had an orange streak running through it and two long, pointed feathered ears. A Vastyan - some kind of exotic bird man who wasn’t wearing a shirt. Who he was laying against. Whose lap he was sitting in. 

Laughing, the Vastayan downed the rest of his drink and passed both cups to the woman at his side. “Yae, wanna give us some space?”

She pouted, then took both cups sitting up. “You know what he asked for, yeah?” she looked down to the flushed face of the boy, his empty eyes looking around, “how are you going to get anything from a mute boy?”

The man gave a wicked grin, holding Aphelios closer to him almost fondly. “Xayah has her methods I have mine, ya?” He looked down and admired the rosey cheeks on pale skin, twirling a lock of his hair around his clawed finger. “I’ll get you your answers. I always do, don’t I?”

She looked over both of them and nodded “Yeah yeah, payment will be in the same spot,” standing and tossing a key to the blond. “Don’t hurt the kid too bad.” Though she didn’t sound like she meant it.

He kept his smile as he picked up the key from the pillow beside him where it landed.

The Vastayan stood, hoisting the boy in his arms up into a princess hold and placing a small plate on his stomach. As he ventured toward a room in the back, he made small talk, finally excusing himself once they entered. The room was bare, save for a simple bed in its center; there wasn’t much else. He took the plate he’d placed on the boy’s stomach and placed it off on a nearby side table. Then, the bird man shifted his hold on the body in his arms, placing him down on the bed. He sat at the end of it, watching him. Pale skin flushed, a hazy look in his eyes and a small tremble in his hands. Whether from nerves or the drugs, he wasn’t too sure, but it put a frown on his face. He never liked this part. Being part of a resistance sounded great at first, especially since it was his heart-light’s goal to have true freedom for Vastaya and her people. Rakan was amazing with words - all smiles and charm; he could easily play a crowd of people. Parties and people was his specialty; Xayah was the fighter of the two of them. His stomach turned. Where had their noble cause gone? How far did they have to go to achieve their goal? Was there no price they weren’t willing to pay? And, the biggest question of them all: would it all be worth it in the end? 

A light tap on his leg brought him out of the spiral his mind dragged him into. Aphelios was sitting up, pointing to himself and then the door. 

_ Right… he couldn’t talk. _

The Vastayan took a deep breath and he put on his best smile, leaning in to press him back into the bed.

Aphelios felt like he was watching someone in his body. He wanted to fight back, wanted to get out; in his gut, he could feel Alune's worry. He let himself be pressed into the bed, though. He had no energy to fight back. There was a light kiss on his cheek and then cool air hit his chest. 

Rakan had to bite the inside of cheek to stop himself from cursing. The boy was covered in scars that weren't just from training; some looked like they might have been deadly. Especially the one over his heart. It was ugly, silvery. It looked fresh, with deep purple spider web lines that sprawled outwards. He brushed his fingers over it and he felt the other shudder. Rakan looked up and regretted it. Those large blue eyes stared up at him, so empty and hollow. He'd seen what war did to people, how it took everything, and yet this… this was somehow worse.

Disgust gripped his heart and he gently turned the boy over. The same purple marks were on his back - strangely enough, none of them appeared like a tattoo. There was a large inverse crescent moon in the very center and sprawling lines that went along his spine. He spotted a black rose tattoo on the other’s right hip, seemingly out of place. He'd seen similar marks with some of the more unsavory people he'd ran into.

_ He's been trained as an assassin? Who would taint a kid so badly. _

"You're so tense. Let me help… relax you," Rakan whispered as he straddled the thin waist of the boy. 

The Vastayan could feel tension as he kneed the muscles on his back, his touch doing the opposite effect if what he’d intended. He hated using his magic like this. It always felt wrong and twisted, like sludge rolling down this throat. 

He spoke softly, words thick like honey, "Just nod yes or no, okay darling?"

Rakan could feel the initial resistance, the alcohol helping ease him. He pressed harder, pushing his magic to convince him. 

Aphelios felt warm inside, different from the cold touch of… of someone he knew. They were important to him. He couldn't recall who; everything felt hazy but he struggled to claw his way through it. He was swept up into a warm embrace, like being cloaked in a coat of brightly colored feathers. Everything melted away, except that deep baritone voice. 

Aphelios nodded.

"Good boy." He moved upward working at tension around his neck. "Now, you're not from any Ionia kingdom. Your clothing choice is too dull and the threst isn’t something I’ve ever seen."

His hands moved down to the boy’s shoulder muscles, and Rakan could feel the tension bleeding away.

"Noxus?"

The boy shook his head.

"Not Demacia… and you're not tan enough for anyone from the Shurima region." He worked in small circles, kneading out the knots that were built up. "No tribal tattoos from Freijord…Targonian lands?"

The form below him gave a small nod. 

“Good… Solari?” Rakan asked, kissing the boy’s left shoulder.

There was a quick shake of his head.

"Lunari, then." 

A slow nod and he could feel the boy fighting against his charm. Leaning closer as his hands roamed down his back, he kissed the base of his neck. "Very good. High class?" 

  
  
  


There was a storm of feathers and snow fighting within his mind. Aphelios could feel a headache forming as a cool and sweet voice screamed inside of him, drowning in the sound of the deep and smooth tone outside. He felt heat pooling in his gut and a shiver ran down his spine. His head felt heavy, but his body felt lighter than air. The smooth voice ripped through the snow and he could feel his head nodding.

  
  
  


Rakan frowned as he felt a wall, however poorly formed, resisting him again. His touches turned more sensual, a caress along his hip with his fingers brushing along the boy’s thigh. He could feel his magic stir his own desire. As with all magic, that was his price he paid for using his charm. Asking more questions, digging deeper until the urge was overwhelming... The body below him was open like a book. Each touch drew a reaction from him and he savored it. Reaching his limit, Rakan rolled the form beneath him over and kissed him deeply. He knew better than to look into those eyes again, so he looked instead to the window. Their bodies reflected in the moonlight.

"Do you want this?"

He never saw the movement, never saw the tears well up in those empty, oceanic eyes. 

  
  
  


The last thing Aphelios could recall was immense pain and distant sobbing.


	2. Waxing Gibbous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alune needed a reminder of why she's here and why she's fighting.

_He was alone, walking on a frozen lake. The cold wind whipped around him. Aphelios felt the chill deep in his core; it was numbing. The wind picked up speed until it was howling all around him. He heard something surrounding him - muffled yelling, followed by a loud crack beneath his feet_

  
  


Aphelios sat upward with a panicked gasp. Holding his chest as mild hysteria crept into his mind, the Lunari immediately regretted any movement he made. His head was pounding and there was a sharp pain in his spine. He took a deep breath, then struggled to gather his scattered thoughts from the night prior. 

To his right, there was someone else in the bed; flashes of warm kisses and scorching touches raced in his memories. The blanket slipped lower on their hips and Aphleios looked away quickly, his stomach turning.

He needed to… Why were his hands shaking so much? Why was it so hard to breathe?

Why wouldn’t his body just _move_?!

He’d been used as a weapon, beaten for disobeying, almost killed in fights… So why was this feeling _worse_ ? He was fine physically. He was _fine_. He had to be. Just push it away, hide it in the dark... He would be okay. 

»»————- ————-««

Rakan rolled over, having been awake for some time. Sleep was hard to come by nowadays. He watched the process of grief wash over the younger one’s face. Those hollow eyes never changed and he was sure he’d see them in his nightmares. Rakan was almost positive the kid wasn’t even aware he was crying at this point. Honestly, he felt like he might do the same himself if he had anything left. Though, what did he have to cry about? He was the monster in that boy’s story; he’d been a monster for awhile, if he thought about it.

He watched as Aphelios moved methodically, ignoring his body’s pleas to not move as he dressed. Rakan opened his mouth to say something, but the words died on his lips. He turned over just as Aphelios left the room. He was okay.

»»————- ————-««

The sound of a book slamming on the desk jolted her out of the downward spiral of her thoughts. Alune jumped in her seat and looked up at her tutor; he was a stern looking man with a portly belly, thin mustache, and all the fine clothes a personal tutor of the royal family could buy.

“Am I boring you, Lady Al’Nath ?” the tutor asked sternly. 

She gave him an apologetic smile, ducking her head in shame. Alune turned her attention to the textbook in front of her. More history lessons. As if it wasn’t _already_ drilled into her head who had what leader, or what king killed that other king, or major battles and why they were important. She held back the sigh of frustration as she read along while he spoke.

The day’s lesson was about Ionia and its history - specifically, their ruling monarchy. After all, that was why her mother allowed her to see her aunt: under the guise of a diplomatic mission and training, to seek aid and supplies for their war, and to form allies. Demacia and Noxus had just ended their second conflict, and Demacia was backing the Solaris. The Ixtal Kingdom never involved themselves with others. So the Lunari turned to Ionia.

The land was made up of four different kingdoms: Shon-Xan, Zhyun, Navori and Vastaya. Ionia as a whole was run by a council selected from each kingdom; however, the Navori tribes tended to rule, having a majority of the land and a treaty with Demacia. Since then, magic had become regulated and half breeds were condemned for their impure natures.

She flipped the page and wrinkled her nose at the large portrait of a grim man with an equally dour looking woman. Tulipalo and Violet Viracei of the Navori clan. Below that were three more pictures. The left featured a fiery redhead with tiger-like features, and beside her was a short, brown-haired man with bear ears: Pitka Ahkera and Udyr Medved from Shon-Xan. In the center was a masked man, and next to him was a younger boy with a blue streak in his hair: Zed and Kayn from Zhyun. The last had a lanky male with a thin nose and sickly yellow eyes with green hair: Ejo Kalaulima of Vastaya. Alune’s finger traced the name. Something about him and his smug smirk made her want to punch him.

Her leg bounced with agitation. She’d been feeling restless and angry ever since the prior night, having lost track of Aphelios through their bond. She had felt something happen to him and immediately had ran to the temple to pray and search, hoping her gift would provide answers. She spent most of the night there - that was, until Auntie found her kneeling on the cool stone floor. She didn’t recall much after Auntie touched her shoulder. She was jolted back to her body and felt the urge to take a shower and scrub her body raw. Tears were racing down her cheeks but all she could feel was anger. That sadness made no sense, and her own brother had closed their bond! First, he left her to watch some fight and then didn’t even come back that night? Didn’t he realize how hard she had to work for both of them? He no longer _had_ royal duties, he didn’t have to do anything, it wasn’t fair--! 

“Lady Al’Nath, if you think you know so much, perhaps we should continue your language lessons?” her tutor said with annoyance. 

Alune snapped to attention, her cheeks heating up with guilt. What was wrong with her? Spacing out and letting her emotions get the better of her. She had the grace to bow her head, mumbling an apology. “Sorry. My head has been in the clouds. I am sorry.”

He tutted, closing his own book, “Your concern for your guard is touching, but that is no reason to slack off. You have a delicate mission before you and such a wonderful opportunity to learn about a different culture. I would see that you make the fullest of it. You are our future queen; we _need_ someone to stand behind.”

Anger. 

Shame. 

Frustration. 

All of it burned deep in her chest, a tempest of emotions. She nodded and stood, gathering her notes and books. She knew that. It was ingrained into her from a young age. She would be queen and her brother would be her sword: to serve and protect their kingdom and bring them out of the shadows once more. It was her destiny. She touched the mark in the center of her face. Mother Moon had shown her the light and she wanted nothing more than to show the world what her faith could do. Nothing would stop her, not after being so close. 

Alune thanked him for his time and apologized once more before heading to her room. Thoughts of her other half still plaguing her mind, worry slowly burned into anger. How could he leave her all alone in these lands? What if something happened?! Not that she was helpless by any means, but he was supposed to be there. He had made an oath to her, drank the flower under the new moon, swore to be by her side no matter what…! 

Stomping down the hallway, she didn't notice the listless figure in front of her before colliding into them. Alune felt them jolt back violently as they stumbled back into the grey stone wall. She cursed in her native tongue stooping picking up her books and scattered notes before looking up to who she ran into. How come they haven’t apologized yet for standing in the hallway. Her mood soured upon seeing the cause of her unease all morning and late last night.

Alune loved her brother more than anything, but lately he’d been trying on her nerves. At this moment, he was the last person she wanted to see.

Aphelios stepped forward, pulling Alune into a hug. She blinked, stunned. What was he doing? Her brother had never been the affectionate type, and that especially stood true for physical affection of any kind. Out of anger and confusion, Alune pushed away from him.

She shoved her belonging into his hands so he couldn’t sign - not that it stopped her from feeling his thoughts. The sharp bite hurt like a wave in the back of her mind. She was _not_ in the mood for this right now. “Return these to my room. I have a lunch appointment. I hope wherever you were that was _so_ much more important than our goal, that it was worth it. Auntie is furious and almost sent a raven to mother.” Alune threw her hands up in frustration, pacing the hall. “Do you have any idea how much I had to convince, to bargain with her to let you come? How much I had to _sacrifice_ for this and all for you to spend your nights --” She stopped suddenly, turning toward her brother and stomping up to him to yank his tunic top aside.

Aphelios froze to the spot as his sister grabbed him. She felt the uneasy whirl of fear and pain, but brushed it away. Alune took the moment to truly look over her twin. Bags under his eyes from lack of sleep, his eyes - once a brilliant blue, she vaguely recalled - now deep and voidless. She couldn’t recall the last time her brother truly showed an emotion that wasn’t a pale imitation of her own. But what stopped Alune hard in her tracks of investigation was the red-purple bruise peeking out from underneath his collar. 

\-- He couldn’t have. 

No, he wouldn’t _dare_.

Pulling the tunic further aside, more of the marks continued down. She inhaled sharply, her voice barely above a whisper. “I can not believe you. After all that I’ve done for you and you… … _you_...” She couldn’t bring herself to say it, the words sticking on her tongue before she swallowed them down like a vile medicine. 

Letting him go as if scalded, Alune wiped her palms on her dress in disgust. She lifted her burning gaze onto him. She was seething and beyond disappointed.

“Go. Return my things and see Auntie for your punishment.” 

»»————- ————-««

A spark of fear ran down Aphelios’s spine. The way she was holding herself, the way she looked as if he was nothing but vermin... even her tone. For a second, he thought he was a young child again, cowering before his mother and unsure of what he had done wrong this time. The same fear and helplessness squeezed his lungs and he struggled to get air. 

_Push it away._

_You don’t need emotions_

He was fine.

He swallowed thickly and nodded, slipping past her and to her room.

He was fine.

»»————- ————-««

Alune waited until her brother disappeared down the hall, finally taking a deep breath to collect herself as she leaned against a nearby wall. There was an empty ache in her chest; something was missing, but she didn’t have time to dwell on it. There never was enough time any more. A voice was calling to her from down the hall. Turning on her heels, she put on a smile as her handmaiden rushed up to her. The younger girl - a short, blonde haired female with messy bangs - gave Alune a deep bow. 

Alune waved her hand in dismissal, smiling. "You know you don't have to bow if it’s just us, Miriam." 

Miriam smiled brightly, a tinge of nervousness behind it. Her light blue eyes were always betraying her emotions; she was easy for Alune to read.

"Of course, m'lady! I, uh... You have --" 

Giving her a tight smile and not in the mood to deal with a reminder of what she should be doing, Alune answered, "I know, Miriam. I have lessons with Madame Hella." 

The girl’s cheeks flushed red and she squeaked, gripping her red cotton dress. “I… I’m… Lady Diana has requested you meet her in her room. There has been a sudden change of plans,” Miriam stuttered out, brows stitched apologetically.

Alune released a breath, then folded her arms over her chest. A wave of exhaustion had swept over her all of a sudden; from the lack of peaceful sleep or tiring duties, she wasn’t sure anymore. She nodded, striding past her handmaiden. Miriam turned and followed after her nervously.

The cold stone halls made it confusing at first to navigate. Everything looked the same and the lack of windows drove Alune insane. She missed being able to look out at the gardens back home. The palace gardens were her favorite place to relax and read, and the ones here just weren't the same. Thankfully, she could feel the small pulse of magic; it was warm, as if she was sitting under the summer moon as it set for the day. It was a comforting feeling. 

She stopped before a pair of large wooden doors and knocked. Only when a sharp reply of 'Come in' came, did Alune open the door and step inside. Immediately, her focus was drawn in on the silhouette of her aunt standing before an open double window. Tall with elegant silver hair pulled into a high ponytail with smaller braids interwoven and a small silver circlet adorning the crown of her head, Alune couldn’t help but be amazed. There was a stark contrast between the fierce warrior and the high noble woman, and her aunt played both roles well. She was someone Alune had always aspired to be like when she grew older.

The woman turned, her long deep green skirts twirling with the motion. Setting her piercing silver blue eyes on Alune, she frowned, already quickly making her way over. Long fingers grabbed Alune's lose hair that was draped over her shoulder, then ran down the long sleeves of her grey dress. 

"You're not a child anymore. Who dressed you in these rags?" She turned her fury toward Miriam, who squeaked in fear of the punishment she would surely get later. Without waiting for a reply, Diana moved to a large wardrobe and threw it open, pulling large frilled dresses with layers of lace and sheer material out for Alune to see. "You have a handmaiden for these things. We're here to represent our kingdom - our people - and you go around wearing _commoner's clothes_." 

Her aunt threw a large colorful dress - greens and purples with white lace - onto a bench. It was gaudy and horrid to look at; surely her aunt didn’t want her to wear _that_ . Alune looked over her shoulder as shaky hands tugged the strings on her dress loose. Tears welled up in those eyes of hers and she looked ahead. Standing naked in front of her handmaiden and aunt, that hot sticky feeling of shame returned, burning in her gut. She hated the feeling, hated how it made her feel like a little girl. Stupid and ignorant and she wasn't! She studied! She was the future _Queen_ , for Moon's sake! 

Alune was pulled and prodded as her aunt of all people dressed her like when she was a child. Tugging the corset impossibly tight and stealing the breath from her, Diana pushed her niece into a chair and brought a brush to the top of the Lunari’s head. It dragged through her straight silver hair roughly; Alune had to bite her lip to prevent herself from flinching. 

"You remind me much of your father." 

Alune’s back stiffened; no one spoke about her father - especially around her mother. Besides, she was always compared to her mother. 

_You have her intelligence, you have her smile, you have her mannerisms_.

She _hated_ it. 

Her head was jerked back as her aunt styled the straight locks into a similar high braid like her own.

“You have your father’s hair. His jawline,” Diana said with a sigh. It’s a shame what happened to sucha handsome man." There was so much to that statement; Alune didn't want to dwell on it. 

A new emotion crept into her chest. It was not an unfamiliar one. Late at night - when she was allowed to reprieve and to be alone with her thoughts - jealousy crept into her thoughts about her twin. Aphelios had their mother’s beauty, her curls and bright blue eyes, the grace in the way he moved. She felt the sickened twist of her stomach - shame, she realized - when the thought of how glad she was he was forced to cut his hair came back to her. That the dark flower changed his eyes to the empty void she’d grown used too.. As soon as it crossed her mind, she prayed to Mother Moon for forgiveness. She would be a good sister to him and an even better queen. 

Her aunt tied the braid off with a pink ribbon and her hands rested on her shoulders. Heavy tension filled the room.

"This reminds me of when I found you sobbing in your room after court." Diana’s piercing blue eyes looked down on her niece. "Do you remember that day? I had just returned from a diplomatic trip."

Alune had never forgotten. That memory she locked away with others - but it bled into her nightmares. Her mother allowed her into the courtroom, where matters of their people would be decided on their whim alone. It was her favorite part of the day. No boring lessons or pretentious tea parties with girls who had too much time. She thought of it as a game, deciding that one farmer got that cow or this beggar deserved public punishment for stealing. Now, thinking back on that day, a dreadful feeling curled in her chest. 

She wished that she never did.

Alune was a little girl, only fourteen years old, sitting next to her mother. A woman with stringy hair, bags under her eyes and terrible bruise on her cheek stood before them. Beside her was a man. Alune remembered the rage - oh, the _rage_ \- how dare he lift a hand to his wife. They made an oath before the moon and he harmed a child of the Great Mother. She couldn't even recall what the man said now, only his forlorn face and tears. She did remember the woman telling the court how he was an adulterous abuser, though. She had already decided he was guilty before he even spoke. 

How could she have been so stupid. 

How was a child supposed to know any better? 

"Answer when I speak, girl."

Alune swallowed around the lump in her throat. Words escaped her as she recalled that horrible day. 

"I… I do, Auntie," Alune whispered, finding her voice.

The man was so vivid in her mind, but his voice had long faded. A child should never have been trusted with the lives of others, so why had her mother allowed her to condemn him to die? The unease rested heavy in her heart at that question, like an iron vice. 

Hands rested hard on her shoulders, feeling larger than possible. Alune didn't dare look up, nor did she move.

"What did I tell you?"

Soft but clear, she answered, "Keep your head held high. Do not waste tears on others." 

Her aunt's nails dug into her niece's shoulders. "No, what did I tell _you_ , not what your mother said."

Alune racked her brain, trying to recall that horrible day - but nothing stood out. There was a stretch of silence and her aunt released her grip. The clack of heels on the stone floor echoed loudly in the chambers. 

"That man you killed was innocent." 

Alune inhaled sharply, gaze widening as she gripped her dress until her knuckles turned white.

"He was protecting his daughter from her mother. In the process, he ended up hitting her.” Diana paused and foot steps grew closer to her, “That woman was a drunkard, wasting her days in a cup and in the bed of any man who provided more."

Each word stabbed Alune’s heart, stealing the air from her lungs. Tears stung her eyes, threatening to spill.

She would not cry.

She couldn’t cry, not now.

"That little girl was only ten when her mother sold her for a bottle of whiskey,” her Aunt’s voice sounded so close but the rapid beat of her heart drowned out the noise.

How was it possible to feel everything and nothing all at once? She just wanted her aunt to stop talking. For the emotions to stop building that she couldn’t ever process. She knew that the wrong choice had been made. 

_She knew._

Yet...

"That's the difference between you and the rest, child.” those cold fingers were back, stroking along the sleeve of her gown. “Choices we make affect more than you alone. You make mistakes and,” Alune felt her aunt caress her cheek and it made her look up in surprise, “others pay your price.”

Cold eyes stared back; there was so much in her stare that it made the Lunari’s heart jump into her throat.

"You should know better than anyone that your actions have consequences." The fingers traced her mark, the touch feeling like fire on her skin. "... but you'll never pay the price won’t you." 

Aphelios jumped to her mind immediately and it unleashed a flood gate of repressed memories. The white stone of the temple, the gleam of a moonstone blade. Hollow ocean eyes and crimson blood. 

"I tell you this not to be cruel," the woman said softly, almost affectionately, "Alune, you have a choice now once more. I will be returning home; your mother has sent a raven for me." 

Stepping back she looked down at her niece. "Remember who you fight for. This world has no place for the weak. Serve the Great Mother proudly." 

Trembling hands twisted her skirts as Alune nodded. There was a soft pat on her head. "Now, the reason I have called you. We do not have a year to wait anymore for you to finish. You have lunch with a lord in a few moments as our plans have been pushed up. I will be packing to leave in the meantime." 

Watching her aunt stride over to her handmaiden, Alune’s heart fell. "As for you -" She watched in horror as Miriam was slapped, falling to the ground from the suddenness of it all. "- you will be assigned a new handmaiden." 

Miriam did not dare move from the ground, but Alune could see the shake of her shoulders and hear the small, muffled sobs.

"Get out," the elder woman spat out and then she was gone.

The ugly feeling of shame slithered back. Dark and twisting tendrils gripped her heart, squeezing. Hands still trembling - not with guilt, but with burning rage - she took a deep breath to collect herself and stood. Alune took careful steps forward and stopped, looking down at Miriam. No one else would suffer because of her anymore. 

She was the Queen to be and _nothing_ would get in her way. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again thanks to best girl Yuyu fro helping me edit! Chapter 3 will have our main chad boi ;3c Thank you for reading!


	3. Waxing Crescent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rakan thinks about what has lead him to this point and all the decisions he's every made. He knows with his hart-light and his cousin he'll be okay.

He was lounging on a plush chair in the sunroom, reading a rather risque novel. One of his favorites if he was honest. A tale about the Moon Maiden and his werewolf lover and how they can only meet the brief moments of twilight. The Suddenly, he found himself upside down and the face of his cousin inches from his own - who raised a manicured blond eyebrow in an unspoken question.

The bulkier man gave him a wide grin. "Dear cousin of mine, we are going out." He dropped the blond back down, none too gently, "You're bringing down the mood in the place and I can feel you moping from my office."

Rakan huffed, puffing up his chest with indignation and causing his hair to spike up even more. 

"I am NOT moping! I was trying to relax, thank you very much."

"Okay birdbrain, if you say so,” his cousin said with a roll of his eyes, bending down to pick up the dropped book, "I'm tired of paperwork and endless complaints and you need to get out." He opened it - and immediately upon reading a passage, wrinkled his nose in disgust.

"Stop reading smut in public. It's tacky." The dark haired man paused, looking at the bird hybrid dressed in bright orange and pinks. "... More than you already are."

Rakan most certainly did not squawk and would deny it if ever asked. His hair and feathers puffed up, reassembling an angry bird. He stood, straightening the fine wool tunic in a bright pink with blue trim. "Excuse you! I am  _ not _ tacky." Rakan sounded hurt as he strode to the massive bookshelf to the right. "These colors are all the rage and you would know if you actually went out." 

He reached out, snatching the book from his much larger cousin with a glower. “- And it's not smut. It's a tragic love story of star crossed lovers." Rakan closed the book, tucking it away in the folds of his tunic. "A  _ classic _ , by the way. Don't you remember the play we saw about it?"

Sett raised an eyebrow in disbelief but didn't push that subject, shaking his head 'no', "I hate court talk. No one says what they mean and all they do is speak in circles. Why is it so hard to be forward about what you mean?"

Rakan sighed and went on a rant about something they'd argued endlessly about. They eventually found themselves walking down the streets of a nicer part of the large city, speaking aimlessly about anything and everything. From the court ladies and their gossip to the newest pit fighters, they went on and on. Rakan kept a large smile on his face as he talked with hands, leading most of the conversation, but he wasn't oblivious to the glares and harsh looks sent their way. They would never say anything; it wasn’t their way, but the looks held more than words could convey. 

_ Traitor. _

_ Half breed lover. _

_ Whore. _

**_Killer._ **

He could hear them all loudly in his mind, Rakan's own inner voice matching them and causing a tight feeling in his chest. The same reason he'd been moping - at least, according to his cousin. It brought Rakan back to when he was a kid again, and how cruel they were to him, how their words cut into him. How much it -

A pat on his back shook him back to reality and he looked up to the other. Sett was looking at him with a thoughtful expression. Those deep honey gold eyes held so much concern, it made Rakan want to cry. He didn't deserve anyone to worry about him. 

"Your favorite kabob place is around the corner, yeah?" No questioning, no accusation; Sett always knew when to let things be.

He found it hard to talk - a growing lump forming in his throat that he had to swallow difficultly - and simply nodded, giving Sett a small smile. The Vastayan felt his cousin give his shoulder a small, reassuring squeeze and pushed his way through the busy crowd. He wished he could be like him… like Sett. Headstrong, fierce, and brave. Sett never let anything get him down; it only fueled his drive to press on. Not the harsh whispers about his father, about his status, or about his place in life. Rakan could only wish he was half as strong as him. 

He was a spoiled rich kid who lived a sheltered life. Used to getting any and everything he ever desired. They all said he'd never make it without his parent's money... but he was still standing. 

The two Vastayans wound up in the market center, sitting on a bench as they ate. There was a comfortable silence as the people watched. Rakan was mid bite when Sett spoke.

"I'm not going to ask what's wrong, but you know you can come to me if anything is bothering you," his deep voice rumbled, tearing off a piece of meat and glancing up at his blonde cousin, "- you know that, right?"

Rakan thought about it, recalling the countless times he ran home to his cousin crying. He was always sensitive to others’ emotions, and as a child, it was harder to distinguish between what were his feelings, and what were others’. Of course, over time he’d learned to control it, but back then, it made him an emotional wreck. Sett, ever the loyal cousin, would rise to his defense. Sett told Rakan it would be okay and they don't know him like Sett did. Sett would leave and come home covered in bruises and blood. Sett’s mother and Rakan's mother both repremanding young Sett for his violent behavior. 

He knew no matter what, Sett would be there - with that confident grin. And Rakan knew everything would be alright.

Chewing slow, his recent actions sitting heavy in his chest, the bird Vastaya finally answered, "I know. Just had a bad job and I didn't like how it went."

"You've had bad jobs before, though." He didn't sound accusatory, but that damn voice in his head whispered otherwise. Maybe he was reading too much into it. 

"Maybe it's all finally adding up." Rakan shrugged, letting the silence stretch between them, "How do you know when you've gone too far?" 

Sett was looking forward, shadows from the trees dancing on his face. Rakan couldn't see his face, so he couldn't know what the other might have been thinking. The blond almost thought Sett didn't hear before he leaned back, glancing over to him. 

"What do you mean by ‘too far’?" 

Memories of forgotten faces, dark red staining his clothes, and the cries for help flashed through Rakan’s mind. He could recall each person's own magical signature. How they felt reaching climax, how they felt  _ terrified _ .

… how they felt... in their  _ last _ moments. 

No longer hungry, Rakan set down his food on the plate between them. "What we're fighting for. The reason we are on the verge of a civil war," he said, leaning forward and playing with a stray thread, "Everything we've done and the people we hurt.. " He trailed off nervously. Sett looked towards the sun still high in the sky, but slowly descending. The noise of the crowded streets faded into the background, merely white noise. 

Finally, he let out a big sigh, replying, "Why does anyone fight, Rakan? For that damsel in the ivory tower, the lands rich with resources - because someone hurt a noble's feelings." Turning to face his cousin, he saw the annoyance flash in Rakan's eyes. "If you're looking for a definite answer, there isn't one." Sett finished his kabob. He added the skewer to his pile.

"But then how do you know we're doing the ri-"

"How does anyone know? There isn't a good or bad choice. It's not black and white; war never is. Anyone who says so is selling you something," Sett interjected sharply, giving Rakan a pointed look, "Why do you fight?"

The answer was easy to Rakan. "For Xayah, of course-"

Sett cut him off again and Rakan was starting to get annoyed, his feathers sticking up in agitation. "Not  _ who _ ;  **why** . You wouldn't have done this much for someone else. Not entirely - heart-light or not."

He had a point and it made Rakan stop and think. He snorted, thinking how Xayah would have a laugh at that. Of course he fought for Xayah; it was her goal to liberate Ionia, let magic be free once more. Sett was right, though. He wasn't the type to do something if he didn't believe in the cause. Rakan would do just about anything for his other half, but somewhere along the way, her goal became his too. Falling from his gilded cage, Rakan's eyes were opened: to the stifling oppression the Kinkou Order had over free magic and the Vatayan people and the way half breeds were treated less than commoners in most places. Everything looked so peaceful if one didn't look at those being denied work for the fact that they just looked  _ a little _ too much like a human. Or the ones with brilliant magic to heal the deepest of wounds, only to be condemned and imprisoned. 

He longed to see the world Xayah had once told him about, the world others had lived through. He wanted true peace and to finally be free. 

Sett continued on. "The reason anyone fights is because they have something to lose. They have love they need to protect. Homes to defend." He placed a heavily scarred hand on Rakan's shoulder. "Never lose sight of why you chose to make a stand. After all, if you never stand for anything, then what do you fall for? We all make choices, and if you can keep your head held high, then…" Sett trailed off, speaking softly, "... then no matter what you've done, it would have been worth it."

He was not staring directly at Rakan. Passion burned in those fiery golden eyes, the same passion that drove Sett to where he was now. It didn't make Rakan feel any better, but it gave him something to hold on too; maybe he wasn't a complete monster after all.

Silence lapsed between them as they finished their lunch. There was small, idle chatter - mostly from Rakan pointing to others and complaining about their outfit, or how that husband was having an affair with this hunter. 

"How's the reformation going?" Rakan asked, turning to his cousin.

"You know, when I said I was going to be the boss, I didn't picture the endless amounts of paperwork." Sett grimaced. "But this was a huge step in the right place."

Chuckling, Rakan combed through the feathers on his head that made his ears. "Is that so?"

"I mean, sure, people laugh, there's still pit fighting, but giving them a safe place to not only vent their anger and earn money... It infuriated the human snobs and ruffled the fur and feathers of those purebloods. I count that as a win."

Rakan hummed and nodded, listening along and thinking back to their situation.

Humans to the north with the Kinkou Order lived by Demacia's creed, while to the South was a majority of the pureblooded Vastayans. In Ionia, where they were, there was the good middle ground of half-breeds - ruled by a greedy tribe who would rather exploit the powerless and let the surrounding cities fall to needless violence. That was, until his cousin stood up, challenging for Khan. Something no one had done in a few years, and for good reason; it didn't end well, Rakan recalled, and any one involved was exiled. Though if rumors proved true, they were killed. 

Sett, however, wasn't just the handsome half-breed with blood on his knuckles. He gathered allies, anyone who would listen to his ideals. Though not skilled with words, the lesser and halfbreeds listened. Soon, his efforts yielded the resistance to break the chains over Ionia. For all their courage and strength, they lacked the funds or lands to hold a title. That was where Rakan and his inheritance cme in. With all of that, Sett stood a solid chance of taking over and fighting for Khagan.

Looking over to his cousin who had gone back to his lunch, Rakan thought back to his history lessons. There were four main provinces that made up Ionia. Each one had several tribes as old as the land itself. Each tribe had a Khan, who would choose a Duke, and above that was Khagan. Every 12 years, however, those who wished to participate in the [thingy] traveled to that tribe's homeland. For the last several years, Novari had ruled with an iron fist and held a steadfast alliance with Demacia. Their allegiance caused magic to be restricted, and even some Vastayans to be shunned in favor of the human populated north. 

Enter, Noxus.

The bloody war the violent brutes of Noxus launched withdrew Demacia’s presence in Ionia, and many rose up to the occasion. Violence and crime spread like wildfire as those discriminated against could finally retaliate. The Kinkou Order was spread thin, and what little of the Novari tribes remained in the south fled. Then Sett saw his chance, restoring chaos by legalizing violence in his colosseums - giving a place for people to vent their anger while creating jobs, and in turn, the crimes dropped in their cities. Though many were unhappy with such a savage display, no one could dispute the fact it  _ worked _ . 

Rakan looked at Sett; he could still see that kid with ears bigger than his head and clothes of a beggar, face full of bruises and dirt with that determined look in his eyes. Seeing him now in fine wool and how he grew into his body, that determination consumed him; it was a raging inferno inside his cousin that drove his every action. After everything he'd done, the one thing Rakan would never regret was standing by Sett’s side. 

He pulled his cousin into a quick hug, stopping him mid sentence. Rakan felt Sett stiffen before a strong arm wrapped around him. No words were needed, but he could be the reassurance from Sett and it warmed him. As quickly as the moment started, it passed, and they returned to people watching. One person he spotted made Rakan’s blood run cold. Of course there was the chance they’d run into him again, but it was too soon. 

Sett must have noticed Rakan stopped talking and he looked over curiously. Following his blond cousin’s gaze, he saw a group of older women chatting idly near a good tea house. Then he saw them; they were hard to miss once one spotted the pair. Dark clothing and silver crests against the sea of colors around them made them impossible to miss. The taller one was a silver haired girl in a nice blue dress and beside her stood a dark haired male. Both had their heads together, talking with their hands as they paused in front of the tea house. 

“Alune Al’Nath and her ever faithful sword, Aphelios,” a new voice that came from behind them said.

Sett and Rakan looked back to see an average height male with a nasty scar over his left eye, causing it to appear red. Black hair was tied into a braid, and he doned a red and black tunic - appearing like every other citizen around them. 

Shieda Kayn. If  **he** was here then his twin - Rhaast - wouldn’t be far from him. Not that Rakan or Sett could ever spot the assassin if they ever tried. Kayn gave them a mocking smirk, moving to sit beside Rakan on the bench. 

Sett looked back at the duo before turning his attention back to their new companion, confusion on his face. “Who?”

Rakan dropped his head into his hands as he sighed. He loved his cousin, but sometimes he wondered if leading was the best choice for him. Clearly Kayn agreed, raising an eyebrow toward the brute across from them. “Aren’t you supposed to be trying for Khan? And you don’t even know  _ diplomatic guests? _ ” 

“I’ve been busy. We all don’t sit in a dark room and pout because ‘Daddy didn’t let me kill that day,’” Sett said a bit defensively.

Shooting him a glare and looking ready to hit Sett, Rakan held his hands up in peace. “Now, now, boys. You’re both pretty.” He looked between the two, smiling at first - but then gave a defeated sigh as they continued their glares, smile faltering. “Can we please  _ not  _ fight? I  _ just  _ got this tunic and blood is so hard to clean,” Rakan whined, looking down at said tunic and admiring it with a pout.

The two stared the other down a little longer, before finally Kayn broke off, sitting back with a huff as he watched Alune and Aphelios. Folding his arms over his chest, he spoke quietly, “Your little stunt last tribe meeting ruffled a few feathers.” Rakan shot him a dirty look, and Kayn gave him a smirk. “Declaring you’ll take the title from the Vesperion family and then Khagan? Sure, no one cares about you taking this dump of a tribe, but to lead us  _ all? _ ” He laughed, looking at Sett with a smug grin. “Do you  _ really think _ anyone would truly follow a half-breed like you?” 

Rakan felt the tension rise and knew this wasn’t going to end well, but he was stuck on what to say.

“Human daddy who thought more of his station. Wound up dead,” Kayn continued in a mocking tone and Rakan had a bad feeling about what was coming next. “... Leaving poor Mommy all alone. Not many would be willing to overlook her sleeping with trash but -” Another wicked grin spread on Kayn lips. “- I’m sure she would make a  _ great _ concubine.” 

Sett growled, knocking Rakan off the bench as he lunged at Kayn. He grabbed his tunic in a tight fist, pulling the other close. His free hand raised to strike him - but he stopped sharply as the feel of cold steel pressed against his throat. Rakan’s heart beat rapidly as he stood, shakily looking up to see the cold red eyes behind a horned mask of a demon. The masked man was holding a very,  _ very  _ sharp scythe to his cousin's throat. Breathing heavily, Rakan could see his cousin felt the blade dig into his flesh, blood beading up. Kayn and Sett glared each other down, neither willing to back away and the masked man refused to lessen the pressure on his cousin. 

Thinking quickly, the bird Vastaya placed a hand on both Kayn and Sett’s shoulders, pushing what he hoped was the emotion of calmness. His voice lowered to a deep, smooth baritone. “Let’s not cause a scene. Let’s just sit down, hm?” His insides turned as he saw the haze wash over their eyes. 

Slowly, Sett released his grip, slowly sitting back down. The masked figure dropped his weapon and moved to stand behind Kayn. The younger of them was easier to impress and was quicker to comply. Guilt set in, hating his own magic and the rising heat it brought on from use, Rakan put some distance between himself and the other three, choosing to stand some paces away. Thankfully, they didn't attract a crowd; only a few passerbys stopped to stare before Rakan gave them a charming smile and waved them off. Most just left; others glared at the Vastayan, muttering things he was glad he couldn’t hear. 

Kayn shook his head as the foggy haze of magic left him and a scowl returned to his face. “Don’t you ever touch me again, _filth_.” He stood from the bench, tossing a scroll onto the tabletop. “I’d consider the offer _carefully_ , half-breed.” 

The pair turned and walked away, melting into the shadows before Rakan had a chance to say anything. He turned back to the table, looking to his cousin. He was still sitting where he’d gone after he’d been charmed - but now he gripped the scroll tightly in his hands. Taking careful steps like he would if approaching a wild animal, Rakan sat down on the bench - jumping when Sett spoke. 

“I’m not going to hit you.” He sounded so defeated.

“I know…” A deep breath to calm himself, and Rakan continued.” I know you would never, but you have to be careful. You’re used to the low class, but you’ve made yourself a target, and this isn’t an arena you can just brute force win.” 

He turned to face the taller male, choosing his words carefully. “He’s not entirely wrong.” Rakan heard the low growl and knew he spoke wrong, lifting his hands with a little wave. “Not like that! I meant… about leading. You have so much going for you, but even with all the people in the world, we can’t just  _ change their minds _ over night: the way they’ve viewed magic, the way they see hybrids. I know you asked me to attend the spring solstice celebration in your place.” He paused, looking over to see Sett watching him. “I think you need to show everyone you’re not afraid to play their games. Make connections. If the Lunari are here, there  _ has  _ to be more diplomats. Get back from other nations, show them you have not just the people, but  _ kings  _ who are willing to listen to you.”

Rakan gave his cousin a small smile. “You’ve always been the brawn and the one who gets things done. This is just one more challenge you have to overcome.”

Dropping his head back, Sett looked up to the sky, watching the birds pass over. “You’re right. I hate that you’re right.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’ve never been good with words like you.”

“We have a week to get you ready. I’ll talk with Yae and some others, gather info on everything.” He patted Sett on the back. “We can make a Khagan out of you yet, cousin.” 

There was that familiar, determined grin back on his cousin’s face and Rakan knew everything would be okay. So... why did he feel like this was the calm before the storm? 

Jumping up, he pointed in a random direction, other hand on his hip. “But first, my  _ god _ , we need to get you cleaned up.” Sett wrinkled his nose in disgust and Rakan rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “ _ Please _ , cousin. You talk about my looks and yet  _ you  _ have the audacity to go out in public like  _ that? _ ” Without waiting to see if Sett followed, Rakan started walking off. “There’s this new seamstress who has  _ the  _ **_best_ ** Ionian silk.”

Laughing, Sett got up and followed the bird Vastayan, both going into discussion about the finer points of silk over wool. 

… Neither one noticed the deep, dark eyes watching them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaah sorry for the long wait!!! But here it is with more backstory building up for the plot owo. Which we will get there soooooon. 
> 
> Again thanks to my bestie Yuyu for helping me :3 and to you nerds for reading.

**Author's Note:**

> The Sett/Aphelios cult leader inspired this and I actually have a plot for it! Lovely Yuyu helped beta and edit my terrible grammar. 
> 
> I hope you'll enjoyed!


End file.
